Revenge
by hansprinsessa
Summary: It began with a discovery, followed by a promise; but ends with Pam's desire for revenge. Paric, total PWP.


**A/N: Another one-shot. Completely devoid of plot. Those are nice sometimes, yes? Could kind of be considered a follow-up of Duped. Eric had his fun, now it's Pam's turn :D Based on another night of Paric roleplay with Courtney, too good not to turn into a lemony one-shot.**

**Warnings: I usually don't do warnings, but I will on this one so you can turn back now if easily offended. D/s themes, bloodplay, thoroughly enjoyed torture, ridiculous lack of plot, gratutious Paric lemons, general UNFness. Don't say I didn't warn you**

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It had all begun with a discovery, followed by a promise. Eric had, after a hundred years of hiding it, uncovered Pam's deepest, darkest secret, something she had worked tirelessly to make sure he never found out about.

Pam couldn't swim, and was _terrified_ of water.

He was scheduled to attend the vampire summit in a few weeks, which happened to be held this year in South Beach, and as per usual had gotten his way. A deal was made. If Pam would swim in the ocean with him, he promised her something he had never allowed before: he would submit to her, for an entire night, sundown to sunup. When she had scoffed at the thought, he had even gone so far as to swear not to break any restraints she may put in place. He would be hers, for a whole night, to do with what she pleased.

She hadn't really planned on taking him up on his offer, mostly because she had no intentions on even so much as sticking her toe in the sea. But when the summit rolled around, and he decided to unceremoniously toss her off a pier one night as they went for a stroll between meetings, she had made up her mind before she even resurfaced, sputtering and fuming about her ruined hair, makeup, and new dress.

Eric was going to _pay_.

Which was how she found herself the following day, awake with the bleeds; the only way she could be up before he rose with their staggering age difference. She had spent the day getting ready, and worrying herself nearly to death, before finally collapsing in the chair across from their bed in the opulent hotel room they were staying in, admiring her handiwork until she had zoned out, the pull of the sun almost too strong for her to withstand.

Some hours later, she shook herself from her haze when she felt the sun beginning to wane in the sky, loosening its hold over her blood. She stands, crossing the room to inspect her reflection in the mirror. She's not humble enough to deny that she looks amazing, her petite form wrapped in a lacy, blood-red negligee she knows will drive him crazy, with matching sky-high stilettos on her feet, her hair and makeup fixed to perfection, arranged in soft, loose curls around her shoulders just the way she knows he likes best.

She's unsure, to say the least, although her confidence is somewhat bolstered looking in the mirror. She'll have his attention, even if she's worried she won't be able to pull this off. He had always been unequivocally and indisputably in charge between the two of them, and part of her wonders if he'll actually be able to change that for one night at all, or if it will be her that caves first.

Despite the anxiety beginning to slowly weave its way through her excitement, she crosses the room to where he lays, still dead for the day and blissfully unaware of his current predicament. She crawls up on the bed, not stopping until she's sitting astride his broad chest, her long legs folded primly beneath her and resting on the bed on either side of him, the silk of her lingerie pooling around her thighs.

Concentrating on wiping what must be a look of pure terror off of her features, she waits patiently for Eric to wake. And soon, she feels him begin to stir beneath her, a lazy smile crossing his face until it screws up in confusion. His eyes fly open wide in alarm, quickly finding hers, and she manages a sultry smile as she looks down at him.

"Hello," she whispers softly, struggling to keep from either laughing at his expression or abandoning her plans altogether.

"Hello," he repeats almost questioningly, his eyes lowering from her face to drink in every inch of her he can see hungrily, his fangs dropping almost immediately. He _does_ love her in red. Then, his eyes shift, and her own follow his as they travel up the length of one of this arms, both of which are stretched out tautly, slightly above his head, tied with red silk scarves to the bedposts.

"I did not agree to do this tonight," he murmurs.

"That's nice," she replies. "I did. Consider it my first act of being in charge."

He stares dumbly at his wrists for a moment, his eyebrow arched high in question before he flexes his arms, testing the strength of his bindings, which of course he could tear through with a simple flick of his wrists.

The action elicits a harsh growl of warning from his progeny as she hisses, "Don't you fucking _dare._"

His eyes snap back to hers, and she almost laughs again at how wide they are, how surprised he looks at her tone. When his gaze darts again to his bound wrists, she lowers her head, her nose just barely grazing the column of his throat as she whispers darkly, "Part of your promise a few weeks ago was to not break any restraints I may choose to put in place, as I remember. I'm sure I _could_ have found silver chains if I looked hard enough. But, I decided to trust you."

As the tip of her nose blazes a path up his jaw, she hovers just above his lips, her eyes burning into his with the desire already flaring to life inside her, just from simply knowing she's the only being to ever have this man in _this_ position. And despite the lingering shyness she feels blossoming within her, she smiles as she asks softly, their faces practically nose to nose, "Can I, min leksak? Trust you?"

Her smile quickly fades as he strains upwards to kiss her lips. One of her small hands lands squarely on his chest, shoving him roughly back down onto the mattress. He bares his fangs at her, and she merely smiles again, awaiting his response.

Settling back down onto his pillow, Eric returns her smile as he answers, "When have you not been able to trust me, min älskarinna?"

She grins widely at his words, reaching out to trace the curve of his lips, and when he attempts to nip her finger with his teeth she flicks him on his nose with her pink fingernails. _His mistress._ She can hardly believe he's actually going along with this, some part of her denying he would ever truly allow it.

"There's a first time for everything, wouldn't you say, söta prins?" she finally answers. Her face sobers as he chuckles, and she grips his chin roughly between her fingers, wrenching his head off the pillow behind him until their lips are almost touching. "You know," she murmurs thoughtfully, "I don't recall doing a lot of smiling and laughing when our positions were reversed in the past. I must be doing something wrong."

When he reaches for her lips again, the palm of her hand makes sharp contact with his cheek, and she smirks as he pulls back obediently, but not without a growl, although his eyes are like molten pools of blue, matching the lust her rough treatment sent barreling through their bond.

She falls silent, her hands reaching above him, intertwining her fingers with his for a moment, testing him as her new position leaves her breasts in his face, her skin brushing against his nose. But when he remains frozen, dutifully not moving an inch, her hands continue down his arms, stroking every inch of skin, kneading every muscle all the way down to his shoulders.

Her body moves lower over his from her original perch on his chest down to his stomach, her fingers never stilling as they make their way across his chest, sensitizing him to her touch so that once she lowers her head, her lips finally brushing that soft spot underneath his jaw, his head automatically rolls to one side, a groan escaping his lips.

She nips softly at his throat, biting down harder when she notices his eyes have fallen closed. "Eyes open," she orders, her voice so stern she surprises even herself. She smirks when she feels his gaze on her once again, continuing her attentions, her fingers stroking the rippled muscles of his abdomen while her lips blaze a path across his chest. "You know," she says suddenly, "After that bullshit stunt you pulled last night, I'm being far to kind to you. I should beat you senseless while I have both permission and the chance." She falls silent as she crawls lower over his large frame, her lips now following the path of her fingers across his stomach, adding quietly, "But you would probably just enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

She looks up at him from under her lashes, not missing his proud grin as he shrugs as well as he can. "I never hear any complaints from you during your beatings, so perhaps I would. Untie me and I'll be glad to refresh your memory—"

His reply is cut off abruptly with a hiss as her hand encircles his length, squeezing as if to remind him that for tonight, she owns it, owns _him_. As if they aren't both fully aware that she has owned him from the moment he laid eyes on her all those years ago.

He groans as she begins to stroke him, teasingly slow, not applying enough pressure to give him the friction he desires. Again, he pulls on the thin restraints, desperate to touch her, before he remembers his promise. He narrows his eyes at her pleased smile, speaking in a dark whisper, "Fucking succubus."

"Learned from the best," Pam purrs with a proud smile, her grip tightening ever so slightly as she strokes him a little faster. Her eyes stay on his as she lowers her head, her lips, swollen from exploring his body, just lightly brushing his tip before she suddenly pulls away completely, smirking at the sound of his pained groan.

"Patience. Something 'the best' knows nothing about," she whispers as she crawls up his body, settling astride his hips. She cranes her neck to look down at him, her eyes meeting his, full of desire and curiosity for what she has planned next. And pure hunger, as she slowly pulls her lingerie over her head, letting it fall carelessly to the floor beside the bed.

For a moment, she's lost his attention as his eyes hungrily take in her newly bared flesh, but she regains it the moment she reaches for the object she had laid on the small table beside the bed before he awoke.

"What are you doing?" he questions her as his eyes narrow.

"No talking," she commands as she eyes the little knife she had swiped the night before.

"But—"

"Not a sound, Eric," she says softly, but with the same edge to it that he's used on her a thousand times before. "You _threw_ me into the fucking ocean," she adds, softer this time, her eyes piercing his.

"Sure did," he answers proudly.

"I lost my _shoes_," she growls.

"Oh, the horror," he replies, his grin only growing.

"There is no form of torture that you don't deserve for that," she says thoughtfully, lowering the blade to rest against the firm skin of his chest between his defined pectoral muscles.

"You swam, though," he points out.

"_You_ are still talking," she hisses, not wanting to be reminded about it, although a smile is curving her full lips. "I suppose I'll have to shut you up."

She takes a moment to enjoy the widening of his blue eyes, before her own drop down to her hands, watching as she slices into his chest, the muscles of his stomach contracting as the blade digs into his flesh. Not deeply, just enough to watch the blood flow, before she leans down, running her tongue across the wound as it begins to heal, grinning all the while at his hiss of pain and pleasure.

She gives him a minute to recover, before she repeats the process; this time reaching behind her with her free hand to stroke his now-straining length as she licks away the blood she's spilled, moaning at the taste of him on her tongue, relishing in the sound of his groan as she laps at the wound she made.

She sits up, and when she cuts this time, it's much deeper, enough to make his jaw clench in pain, and she smiles wickedly down at him as she runs her hand through the blood, painting her palm with it as she streaks his pale chest in red. Despite the pain, his lust is almost choking her through their bond, and she knows from the feral look in his eyes she's dangerously close to losing her tenuous control over him.

Her eyes stay locked on his as she raises the blade, slicing this time into her own chest, opening a long, deep wound over her full breasts as she bites back a moan. She watches as his eyes follow the streams of red as they roll down her breasts, dripping from her hardened peaks, his nostrils flaring as he catches the scent of her blood.

Never releasing his length, feeling him pulse in her hand with his desire, she tosses the blade aside, running her free hand over the wound. She trails her blood-soaked fingers down her stomach, and Eric moans pitifully as her fingers dip into her folds, her eyes fluttering as she lazily circles her clit with her fingertips. Her head falls back, her eyes closing as she reaches lower, sinking her fingers inside herself, her other hand behind her body still stroking his cock painfully slowly. After a few long moments, she opens her eyes to see him watching her every move, his arms shaking with the effort it must be taking not to break free and attack.

A soft moan escapes her lips as she slowly moves her fingers back and forth, teasing herself until she can hardly take any more, before she removes them, dragging them back up through the blood that has run down her taunt stomach. She leans forward, reaching out to paint his parted lips with her blood and juices before he sucks them greedily into his mouth, his cool tongue licking away every drop.

She whispers her order softly, finally uttering the words he's been waiting to hear. "You may touch me now," she murmurs, before adding in his mother tongue, a small smile on her lips, "Avsluta det jag började."

No sooner are the words out of her mouth, Eric tears away the silken scarves that were binding him, freeing himself from the bed posts. He sits straight up, his broad hand splayed across her back as he pulls her bloody chest closer to his mouth, his tongue sweeping across her skin, groaning at the taste of her, before he jerks her in his arms, all but slamming her down onto her back on the bed.

For a moment, she can feel his inner struggle, no doubt coming close to forgetting his place this night. He growls, frustration radiating from him, his eyes simmering with his need and his wants. When she merely arches an eyebrow, he bares his elongated fangs at her, his words coming out much more like a threat than an explanation.

"I want to fuck you," he snarls, his motoring growl growing louder when she only smirks. "Right now."

He doesn't, though, even if at this point in their game she's not sure she would stop him if he tried. His eyes never leave her as he moves his large body down her small frame with more grace than makes physical sense. Even when his lips brush her thigh, inches away from where she wants them most, he doesn't break eye contact; his own form of dominance, even when he's allowed no other.

He chuckles as her back arches away from the bed, her hips grinding closer to his mouth, seeking contact, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, no doubt to tease her, she suddenly grips him painfully by his hair, pushing his face in between her legs.

Without hesitation, his tongue darts out obediently to taste her sweetness, the tip of his tongue swirling around her clit before he encompasses it with his lips, sucking hard. She cries out, tightening her grip on his hair, and he pushes his fingers inside her, easily sliding into her wetness up to his knuckles. She can almost feel him smiling against her flesh as he turns his hand so that his fingers hook around, pressing against that spot inside her that he knows will make her come undone.

She can't contain the strangled moan of his name that escapes her lips as his fingers crook, his fingertips stroking her expertly as his tongue flicks rapidly against her nub, coaxing her orgasm from her, playing her body with the precision that only comes from years of exploring it; knowing exactly what she wants, what she needs, how much is too much and not enough. And once it hits, washing over her like a tidal wave, all she can do is tighten her grip further, pulling him impossibly closer, as she cries out incoherently for gods she's never even worshiped.

He never lets up on his assault, even as she falls silent again, panting for air she doesn't need; his fingers slipping from within her to lap greedily at her center before his cool tongue explores her core, his thumb rising to slowly circle her clit, quickly bringing her to the edge again.

This time, it's him that moans against her flesh at the taste of her as she feels her release wash over her, left nothing but a trembling, shaking mess beneath his attentions, too far gone to even make a sound.

Although her grip has weakened considerably, she manages to pull his hair until he looks up at her with eyes nearly gone black with desire, and all she can produce is a crook of her finger that sends him climbing slowly up her petite frame, his tongue dragging through the drying blood on her stomach up to her chest. He stops briefly to give each breast attention with his lips, his fangs scraping roughly against her sensitive flesh as he pulls each nipple into his mouth in turn, before continuing his path to her mouth.

Finally, for the first time tonight, she kisses him deeply, tasting herself on his lips as her hand sinks between them, wrapping around his length as it strains against her thigh. He groans desperately into her mouth as she begins to stroke him slowly, his hips thrusting into her hand, when suddenly she finds her long-lost voice.

"Do you want to fuck me, min prins?" she asks in a whisper.

She smiles, blissful as it is after the pleasure he brought her, as he nods his head vigorously, already attempting to position himself between her thighs, before she bursts his bubble.

"Actually, I think I'm good," she deadpans, her expression completely serious.

She's not sure she's ever seen such a look of utter desperation on his face, and he glances down between them longingly. She grins as he meets her eyes again, looking every bit the kicked puppy.

"Kidding," she whispers with a laugh, although her voice drops lower as she remembers herself, remembers their game, murmuring darkly against his lips, "Jag vill ha dig inuti mig."

"About fucking time," he growls, although there's amusement in his eyes. Without another word, his hips surge forward, sinking into her to the hilt. He breathes out her name against her lips as he begins to move slowly in and out of her, knowing after all that she's put him through he won't last terribly long. Her fingernails dig into the flesh of his back as he moves, drawing more blood to add to all the rest.

"More," she whispers somewhere between a desperate request and another command, and he grins as he brushes his lips softly against hers.

"As you wish," he murmurs against them, before he braces himself on the headboard he was formerly tied to, beginning to fuck her at a blinding, brutal pace only a vampire can manage.

Pam's fangs slam down as he begins moving within her earnestly, her legs wrapping around his waist as her hips meet his with every thrust. Her hands, still streaked with the blood covering them both, rise to cup his cheeks, her fingers stroking his skin with a tenderness that's at odds with the brutality of their joining, of their whole evening.

One of his arms falls to wrap around her, jerking her up against him, as the other remains braced on the headboard, their lips meeting in a desperate kiss as she feels herself growing close once again. And in their bonded blood, she knows he can feel it too, and knowing exactly what she needs, he rolls his head to one side to bare his thick neck to her.

Immediately, she accepts his invitation, sinking her teeth deeply into his flesh and pulling hard on the wound; the dark, sweet taste of his blood causing her release to wash over her, her cries muffled against his throat as she drinks deeply.

When he doesn't bite her in return, she realizes he's waiting for permission just as she must when they play their games together; permission to drink from her, permission to come, and all she can manage is one word, gasped out against his skin, "_Please_…"

His fangs are in her throat almost instantly, his hips rocking into her twice more before he spills himself inside her with a roar of her name, stifled against her skin. He falls against her, seeming almost boneless, as he drinks his fill, and she accepts his full weight, holding him against her even when he's through, their bloody lips meeting softly, affectionately.

His hips flex into hers once more, before he rolls off of her, taking her with him so she's resting on his broad chest. She blinks up at him, a somewhat shy smile on her face, unable to believe she actually had the balls to do it. She dominated him. _Eric Northman_. No one living, dead, or otherwise could make that claim but her.

"That was fun," she says suddenly with a smile as she breaks the silence that's fallen between them, "We should do that more often."

Laughing at his incredulous expression, she sits up, gathering the blood that remains on his lips with her finger before popping it in his mouth. His tongue laving sensually over her fingertip almost distracts her as she climbs on top of him, not missing how suspicious of her he looks as she grins mischievously down at him.

She leans down, placing a kiss on his lips before she commands, "Get dressed." He arches an eyebrow, no doubt having planned on getting a round two or ten, but she has something else on her mind, for now anyway.

"You said I was in charge for the _whole_ night, right?" she asks.

"I did say that," he answers hesitantly.

"Good," she nods, "We have a few hours until dawn, mitt livs kärlek, and I'm still in charge."

"And?" he asks, watching her as she stands, standing naked beside the bed, tugging on his hand until he joins her.

"_And_," she repeats, a huge smile crossing her face as she steps closer, peering up into his eyes, "I have another command."

"And that would be?" he questions her, but she can tell by the dread beginning to creep across his gorgeous face as he no doubt anticipates what's coming next, since she seems like she's seconds away from jumping up and down and clapping.

"Time to take me shoe shopping."

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**A/N: Alrighty then. Review me, maybe? :D**

**Translations:**

**min leksak – my toy**

**min älskarinna – my mistress**

**söta prins – sweet prince**

**Avsluta det jag började – Finish what I started.**

**Jag vill ha dig inuti mig – I want you inside me.**

**mitt livs kärlek – love of my life**


End file.
